


Snow White Queen

by Jenshih_Blue



Series: Open the Door ~ A Modern Day Fairy Tale in 13 Parts [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 17:46:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue





	

South Dakota, that’s where the game finally took a turn for the worse, not that California hadn’t been bad, it had, but this was by far worse than Hollywood. It had started out with something as simple as an obnoxious brotherly demand for warm, fresh-baked pie on a cold rain swept night and it ended with them both kneeling in a quagmire of mud in the middle of nowhere. Of course, Sam was getting ahead of himself wasn’t he?

 

For a couple of weeks before they had ridden into South Dakota, Dean had been sleeping next to Sam every night. It wasn’t what Sam had expected, not after what had happened back in LA. Nevertheless, it happened. There was something in the air that chilled Sam’s blood froze his marrow to the quick. The sudden change in Dean was part of it, but it wasn't all of it just a small portion. He knew that Dean had been suffering from nightmares, but these nightmares were different. Sam was damn sure it had nothing to do with their father. Of course, what they were about Dean wouldn’t share.

 

When he’d stepped into that diner, annoyed with his brother, and grumbling about how he’d get him a pie, he’d never dreamed what would happen. He’d found himself suddenly surrounded by demons and before he could escape or scream for help he’d been swallowed by darkness. His last thought was of Dean. How if he escaped this, he’d buy Dean whatever kind of pie he wanted every day for the rest of their lives until he was fat and content.

 

The demon had haunted his dreams since he’d been a child and the scent of burning flesh and bone drifted around both of them, but it was stronger on his skin. Waking in that dark, rotting nightmare, had left him wondering if he would ever have the chance to tell Dean how he really felt. He’d made so many mistakes over the years and if Dean hated him for those mistakes, he’d hid it well. 

 

That first night, after the death of Lily, the demon came to visit him. At first, he thought that the bastard was there, in the flesh, but he should have known better. The fucker was in Sam’s head prancing through his dreams as if he owned him. That was the thing though the demon claimed he was rooting for him in some twisted version of _American Idol_ or maybe it was _Gladiator_. Sam discovered what being screwed felt like, whichever it was. Especially, if he wanted to survive this little side trip to hell. The demon only wanted one of the four kids left standing. Sam didn’t like that idea, but the demon had shown him something to convince him he couldn’t fight his destiny—his mother.

 

With a snap of his fingers, he showed Sam what had happened that long ago night back in Lawrence. He’d seen his mother, he’d witnessed the demon feeding him its blood, and he’d discovered that their mother had known the demon, yellow eyes and all. It made his stomach twist into a knot, as the demon had waxed poetic about how Sam was his favorite and how Sam was his choice for the leader of his hellish army. Everything left a bitter taste of bile along his tongue and Sam, being a true stubborn Winchester, had chosen to fight no matter what happened.

 

Sam couldn’t believe that this was it, that he was destined for darkness, and neither had Dean. His brother had fought to keep him on the path of light over the past few months, had carried the burden John had settled on his shoulders before his death, and Sam wasn’t about to disappoint Dean. He wasn’t going to let the demon claim him like some innocent princess from some damned fairy tale who awaited Prince Charming to come rescue her, not that Dean wouldn’t have found that amusing as all hell. What Dean hadn’t found amusing was what happened when he’d finally discovered Sam.

 

Death was never amusing.

 

From the moment that Sam woke, alone in one of the abandoned houses of Cold Oak, he’d been frightened and confused. The last thing he clearly remembered seeing was Dean and Bobby running towards him, and he recalled the relief that had washed over him when he saw them. Then there had been nothing, a complete blank, until he woke, shivering and alone on that dusty stained mattress. He’d known that Dean was hiding something when he’d barreled into him, arms wrapped tightly around his body, especially when he felt the tremors that ran through Dean.

 

It wasn’t until they were standing in the cemetery in Southern Wyoming that all the pieces fell together. The way Dean had acted in Cold Oak, the odd expression on Bobby’s face when they’d showed up at his front door, and finally the disbelieving look in Jake’s eyes, all of those moments pulled together, and the picture they formed made Sam sick. He knew what Dean had done before he’d managed to rip the truth from him as they stood in the dark cluster of trees next to the car, awaiting Bobby and Ellen.

 

That night as they settled in yet another anonymous motel room after an hour’s drive, Sam let everything sink in. Jake’s insistence that he’d killed him had opened a gateway deep inside Sam, and memories began to rise. He’d already admitted to Dean that he’d felt the sharp heat of the blade sliding into his back, the pain as its razor edge sliced through his spinal cord, but what he hadn’t remembered right away had been what happened next.

 

There had been a vague sensation as if something pulled him from his body, he felt stretched like taffy, and then he’d been standing next to Dean. He’d looked down to see his lifeless body cradled in Dean’s shaking arms, his brother rocking him as he whispered ‘no’ repeatedly.  There was a pain like nothing else he’d ever felt in his twenty plus years and he tried to reach out and comfort Dean as Dean had done for him on numerous occasions, but his hand passed through him. That was when it dawned on Sam—he was dead. Jake had stabbed him in the back both literally and figuratively.

 

Being dead was an odd sensation, Sam had thought. He’d always feared the invisibility that John had insisted they maintain, but now he knew how it truly felt. It felt as if he were swimming through the air and nothing mattered. With grief choking him he’d watched as Dean refused to let Bobby help him carry his body to the nearest abandoned house although the dead weight of his body was nearly too much for Dean to bear.  He’d followed and witnessed every last moment of agonizing pain and he didn’t, hell couldn’t speak. Hours melted into shattered snapshots of vivid color and Sam finally cried out to whatever was out there when Dean had fled the sight of what he believed was just another failure.

 

That was the moment Mary had appeared, clothed in white, hair a spun gold that floated gently around her mournful face, beautiful and yet painful to see. Sam had stood there, mouth agape, and he’d heard his mother’s voice like a bittersweet soliloquy. She told him it was time and that he needed to follow her to the fields of the Elysian Plains. The war was over for him and he needed to come into her arms at last to rest to feel loved and protected.

 

A brilliant light began to shine in the doorway as Mary held out her hand, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and Sam was tempted, but he couldn’t go he explained. Dean needed him, he needed Dean, and there was the demon to deal with. A deep abiding sadness shone in her eyes, so like Dean’s, it made Sam’s soul ache. Before she could speak, again, Sam felt pain flare in his chest, a swirl of darkness, and that pulling sensation as before. Sam realized, now, that had been the moment when Dean had sealed a bargain that neither of them would survive.

 

As he stood there staring out the window at the rain, he knew he had to save Dean, no matter the cost. Despite all the demon’s vaunted abilities, all the emphasis he’d put on Sam being the one, even he hadn’t stepped in to halt Jake’s betrayal. Perhaps, Sam hadn’t been his after all as he’d expressed so vehemently. Behind him, he heard the bathroom door open and he inhaled deeply. He knew Dean was watching him, but he wasn’t sure if he could stand to look in his brother’s eyes again knowing that he only had one year to make things right between them.

 

“Sam?”

 

Dean’s voice filled with fear and Sam knew that tonight was the first night of the beginning of a war. A war they may not win a war that was both personal and far too overwhelming to think about without his heart breaking just a bit more. Dean had always been his strength and now it was his turn to be Dean’s strength, his savior. He exhaled and turned, their eyes meeting, and he slowly moved towards his brother all his doubts burning brightly in his face.

 

As he moved across the room, he shed his clothes, one piece at a time, and as the final piece fell to the faded carpet, he stood in front of Dean naked as the day he was born. He saw the doubt flicker in Dean’s eyes for a split second and then Dean reached for the towel at his waist and let it fall. Sam’s eyes filled with love and desire as he leaned in, one hand curling around Dean’s neck and then he slid it up through the damp bristle of his hair to cradle the curve of his skull. Drawing him close, Sam kissed him, slow and tender at first, and then more demanding as Dean returned the kiss.  

 

When they finally parted, lips bruised with the need that burned in both of them, Sam smiled, a single tear sliding down from the corner of his eye to drop from his chin. “Dean, I…” he began, only to be silenced by the pressure of Dean’s finger.

 

“It’s cool, Sammy.”

 

He searched Dean’s eyes for the fear he’d heard in his voice earlier, but there was no sign of fear, there was only warmth and love. _There are so many things I never told him_ , he thought, _so many things I want him to understand_. Inside he screamed in anguish at what he was about to lose, at the things they’d both lost, and all he wanted was to stop screaming, but he couldn’t.

 

Dean looked up into his eyes and he frowned, “It’s okay, Sammy, I’m ready.”

 

All Sam heard though was Dean’s voice echoing in his mind as they tumbled down onto the worn sheets, bodies entwined tightly as if they were a wall of brambles around the tower that held Sleeping Beauty, and the words weren’t the ones he’d spoke aloud. The words were ones he’d spoke long ago when Sam had been a child, awoke by a nightmare in more than one cold and lonely motel room. Yet they were the words of the man Dean had become as well, intermingling, and whispering to ease the pieces of Sam’s shattered heart, the frightened child, and the desperate lover.

 

_Don’t scream anymore, Sammy…cause all I want is you…_

 

“I’m not his,” Sam whispered against the shadowed skin of Dean’s throat, “I’m not like him.” He closed his eyes as he felt Dean’s intimate, gentle touch. “I’m not his,” he repeated as Dean’s fingers penetrated his body.

 

Dean’s voice was gruff with emotion as he pressed a kiss to Sam’s temple. “No, you’re not…you’re mine.”

 


End file.
